


The Iron Wolf and the Sea Serpent

by plastic_cello



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Explicit Sexual Content, Game of Thrones References, M/M, brief mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastic_cello/pseuds/plastic_cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the greatest tragedy to fall in love with a king.  For kings were untouchable once they held throne; especially men like Loki that would run head-first into war without a second thought about it. King slayers and ambitious tactical minds were no men worth loving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Kings

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally delved into the world of Game of Thrones recently, and I was inspired to write something revolving around Tony and Loki in that setting. However, it isn't anything exact; some details I've taken from the GoT universe, but nothing that'll confuse if you haven't seen the show or read the books.
> 
> While writing this, I listened to the Game of Thrones soundtracks by Ramin Djawadi; they're definitely worth a listen!
> 
> And one last note; if anyone wants to know what Loki's hair looks like, just look up Viserys Targaryen; because I have an inability to describe hair properly apparently.

* * *

 

**Chapter One :: Two Kings**

 

* * *

 

The war had been a bloody one; year upon year of misfortune and would-be kings that had erected armies and trampled thousands of men for the throne. Lord Anthony Stark hadn't been any different in his ambitions; revenge had been a deciding factor to denounce the young and cruel King Peter, whom had taken his father's head and killed many in service to the Stark name.

But he was by no means the only one, who had a personal vendetta against the young king. There had been many men that had chosen to lift their swords while the kingdoms were in disarray. Lord Thor Odinson and his younger brother Lord Loki Odinson had been only two candidates for the throne; after their eldest brother King Baldur had so tragically grown ill and died. Henceforth, why they believed they had a greater claim to the throne than Peter that was purportedly no more an Odinson than a common wench.

Very few alliances had been forged during those dark times; far more betrayals had been committed than anything else. Both lords of Odinson had turned against one another; instead of combining their efforts and significantly larger armies, they had met many times on the battlefield. And Lord Thor had paid the greatest price in the end; it was with Anthony's help too that Lord Loki had succeeded.

The alliance between Anthony and Loki had been struck at the final hour; based on an agreement that the North would remain its own kingdom, and by extension Anthony be named king. No longer would he simply be a lord, but a fully recognized king; whom would not have to answer to a higher authority, specifically the Southerners.

Loki had inevitably agreed; for two armies were better than one, even if Loki's was by far larger and trained exceptionally well. But Anthony's soldiers were by no means insignificant; they fought valiantly and won many battles throughout the duration of the war. Which made the alliance ideal for all involved; more so even, once Thor had been defeated.

Lord Thor had fallen by his own brother's hand; a grisly sight to behold as Loki's Valyrian blade sliced ever-so-easily through Thor's neck. The ensuing celebration had been both vile and admirable; their combined armies had celebrated their victory with food and wine, and Anthony had sheathed himself completely into Loki's compliant, excitable body.

They had celebrated many times before the night's end, and had marched onto the capital a fortnight later; which proved to be easier than it appeared. For the royal city had been attacked innumerable times and their defenses were low, while morale was even lower. And the same blade that had so easily taken Lord Thor's head had cut through the royal guards and any man that stood in its way.

King Peter had been taken captive soon thereafter; the royal family had also been taken, and had been marched through the kingdom they once ruled to the gallows. But Loki was cruel and the subjects were hungry for a new reign to begin; which led to beheadings for all, and the display of each head on pikes for all to see.

Anthony hadn't witnessed such malice glee on anyone's face before; not until Lord Loki had slayed his enemies one by one and finally had fulfilled his ambition of becoming king. No greater king could have been seated on the throne but him; even if his war campaign had been callous, Loki ruled fairly but by no means leniently.

The bargain that Anthony had made with Loki had also been upheld. The North was its own sovereignty without any Southern intervention; but the North and South remained allies, which was precisely why Anthony was awaiting the King's arrival on a visit of goodwill.

"My liege, the Southern King's caravan has just arrived." Ser James Rhodes announced.

"Has it already?" Anthony turned to face his royal bodyguard and friend. "To think Southerners could bear the cold with such ease."

"Many seamen as well, if memory serves correct."

"Our Southern King did spend much of his years by the sea; his forces were essentially men with salt water in their veins. I wonder if they enjoy the tepid southern weather as opposed to their gloomy, rain-addled islands." Anthony strode across his chambers, in order to receive Loki once he was within the castle's walls.

"They would have had three years to adapt, my liege." Ser James returned, following closely behind him through the hallowed halls and across the gray stoned floors of Castle Stark.

The war had ended three years ago; once Loki had been seated on the throne, Anthony had taken his position in the North. They hadn't seen one another since; hadn't lain together since the eve of Thor's defeat, which was a shame. He would have very much liked to have bedded another king during those years. But the gods were in his favor tonight, and he intended on using their blessing for his own nefarious means.

Anthony wound his way through the castle, before he passed through the heavy doors that led him into the frigid winter air. Snowflakes danced on the wind; heavy white flakes that had started their descent several nights prior. It was bound to be a cold winter; one that every Northerner had adapted to, if they were a true Northerner that is.

The courtyard was filled with the royal order; men and ladies of the court stood in orderly lines in their finest pelts and tunics and armor and silk. All of them ready to receive their southern counterpart with open arms; Anthony too was ready for Loki's arrival, and fell to the front of the formation with the grace that only a king could possess.

The royal caravan slowly trickled into the courtyard; banner men and knights on horseback preceded the consorts and advisors that rode in horse drawn carriages. But the Southerner's king rode on a black stallion, draped festively in green and gold. And it was a breathtaking sight to behold.

King Loki was clothed in ebony and forest green; his hair had grown since the last time Anthony had seen him. It was wind tousled, wavy and pulled partially back to ensure his regal features weren't hindered unnecessarily; which would have been a crime against all that was holy and right. For the gods of old and new had gifted Loki with beauty and grace and skill on the battlefield.

Anthony stepped forward as Loki dismounted from his stallion, and found he liked that the Southern king hadn't any predilection to flaunt his status with a gaudy crown outside of his own court. He too hadn't any need to waltz about with a crown on his head for sport. He was a humble sort, regardless of what naysayers had claimed.

"Your Grace," one of the Southerners suddenly proclaimed to the awaiting audience. "The rightful king to the throne: King Loki Odinson."

"And righteous and just the King he must be." Anthony added, as Loki swept away his ebony mantle that glistened with the freshly fallen snow. "You have united all the realms with your rule; while simultaneously pleasing the North by permitting them independence. My King, you have ruled both wisely and fearlessly since you've taken the throne."

"I am no more your king than you are mine, Anthony Stark." Loki smirked, before extending his hand to him. "Allies though we may be,"

Anthony took Loki's gloved hand between both of his, squeezing it tightly in an unspoken declaration of adoration. He only hoped that Loki would interpret it as such; although his attentions had drawn elsewhere to the Castle Stark behind them, which was by far more ancient than even the one in which the Southerners had built.

Castle Stark was a hulking gray structure; that stood forebodingly against the winter sky. It was glum but impressive; which seemed to be running theme amid Northerners. A far cry from the Southerners warm colors and sand rock and exotic plants that speckled their courtyards.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Anthony unhanded Loki, and motioned towards the turrets that stood proudly above their heads. "An old fortress but an impenetrable one; as hundreds of years have shown,"

"Aye," Loki peered down at him. "Your fortress has only been impenetrable because I have not come for it. Our truce has saved you and your subjects, King of the North. Let it be known."

Words failed Anthony then; a feat that hadn't occurred since he was boy. He had always possessed the intellect and sharp tongue that had made lesser men feel obsolete in comparison. And yet, he was the one wordless and flustered by Loki's declaration.

Truth be told, Loki's army had been far more impressive than the North's. Loki had had twenty thousand men behind him; whilst Anthony had only procured five thousand in comparison. Tactically speaking, of course the North would have fallen if Loki had chosen to attack; more so even, if he had joined forces with his elder brother whom had led twelve thousand men. But the statement still felt like an insult; particularly as Loki was to be an honored guest in his home.

"As I had previously come for and conquered your kingly ass, your Grace?" Anthony uttered lowly only for his fellow king to hear.

"By the old gods and the new," Loki looked comically flabbergasted then. "A Northern man has only conquered ice and snow; but they have never set such claim to me."

"Have you forgotten the celebration of your beloved brother's fall from grace?"

"Why, yes; I was drunk on my glory. But no man of the North has conquered any part of me. Lest he had, he must have not left much of an impression to be remembered." Loki suddenly smirked, as if to rile him up, more so than his previous statement did. "Come, King Anthony; show me your halls and let us feast."

Bemused but by no means a poor host; Anthony led his fellow king into the awaiting halls of Castle Stark. Only to peer at Loki's ever-present shadow, Fandral the Dashing; who was a part of the King's watch and vigilantly loyal. Rumor had it that he used not only his sword to appease the king; but fodder was for handmaidens and wenches, although Anthony felt a simmer of jealousy by such talk.

Loki had only been his that fateful night; bloody and bruised, and delirious with glee. They had celebrated their victory over and over again; consumed by passion so great that it had carried Anthony for so many years. And frequently became subject of many lustrous nights alone and with his soon-to-be queen.

Lady Virginia has been his betrothed for some time now; and they were to make their union official come springtime. But Anthony's heart ached for the man beside him; who listened as he explained the history of Castle Stark aptly, and asked appropriate questions when the time arose to.

He supposed that was the greatest tragedy; to fall in love with a king, whoever you may be. For kings were untouchable once they held throne; especially men like Loki that would run head-first into war without a second thought about it. King slayers and ambitious tactical minds were no men worth loving.


	2. Chapter Two :: Dragons, Magic, & Kings on Their Knees

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite the adventure; I've slaved away on this chapter, and I can only hope it isn't absolute shit. So I hope you enjoy it (somehow), and comments are always welcomed and appreciated. :)

* * *

 

**Chapter Two :: Dragons, Magic, & Kings on Their Knees**

 

* * *

 

The festivities were still rather rambunctious as Anthony had taken his leave; bidding goodnight to his lady love and his many guests honor, before taking aside his advisor for a word. Phillip had always been eager to please, and had served the Stark family since his boyhood; so he had gladly followed Anthony to his bed chambers to receive his orders.

"Fetch our most honorable of guests, Phillip. I would like to have a word with King Loki in my chambers without any interruptions." He announced as soon as they were securely inside his chambers.

"My liege, if I may say - that is ill-advised; perhaps the conference hall would be more suitable for conversing?"

"Ill-advised you say?" He raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Were you not the one who also called our alliance with King Loki also ill-advised? If I remember correctly, you had said he would crush us before we even set foot in the North again."

Phillip reddened by that unfortunate reminder; of course, there had been plenty of doubt about the alliance. Loki hadn't been too keen on the offer himself; despite it initially being his idea. Or perhaps it had been formulated by one of his many advisors to ensure victory and the throne alike.

"If you insist, my liege,"

"Oh, I do. Please escort him to my chambers immediately; then make yourself scarce." Anthony waved him away dismissively, before he moved towards the pitcher of wine on the table beside his fireplace and poured himself a goblet full.

Since he had learned of Loki's inevitable visit; he had begun to formulate many plans to get him alone. It was impossible to while in the midst of any feast; worse yet while they had strolled through the courtyards at dusk. Fandral the Dashing had been ever-present as had Ser James whom insisted on escorting him.

The only way in which he would have Loki to himself, was to invite him to his chambers; on the pretense of intimate talk of war and strategy over good wine. He could only hope that such an offer would pique the King's interest; despite the fact, they hadn't shared much conversation beyond thinly veiled slights towards one another.

They both possessed sharp tongues, much to the distress of whoever had heard their back and forth. It was no way a king should speak, especially towards another king; but they had thrown decorum aside and continued only until the other conceded for the time being. And soon enough they would start again, far more viciously than before.

It had been entertaining for some time, but for Anthony it had lost its luster at the reminder that the North was ultimately at a disadvantage to the South. If Loki was ever privy to do so, he potentially could take Castle Stark and reverse his decision to allow them to be their own kingdom. That hurt his pride as both a man and a king; to know it was only by the grace of another that he was ultimately free, instead of by his own volition.

He took a thoughtful drink from his goblet, while peering into the hearth that was alive with orange flames. He pondered if it wasn't just an insult, but a threat. On further inspection, the North hadn't much to offer Loki; which was essentially why he revoked his rights to it in the first place.

But that hadn't deterred greater kings from waging war; and someone who seemed so well-versed in the art of war like Loki, well the possibilities were endless. Anthony could only hope he was more merciful than his predecessor King Peter; which he had proven thus far.

His thoughts slowly drew to a pause, once he heard the knock on his chambers' doors. He called out to Phillip, who either succeeded and brought Loki to him; or had returned in shame and would grovel at his feet for forgiveness. It had happened beforehand, and it most certainly would happen again.

"My liege," Phillip announced, as he pushed open both doors. "The King has come to see you as you have requested."

Anthony turned to face the doors, pleased by the appearance of his fellow king. Loki was still regally clothed in a knee length black coat lightly patterned in the same color, and tied at the waist by a leather belt, and black trousers and knee length boots. He had foregone his usual colors of green and gold; representing death beautifully and contrasting Anthony's crimson red and gold coat.

"Thank you, Phillip. You may leave us now." Anthony smiled in spite of himself as Loki stepped further into his chambers.

The doors soon closed in finality, which suited Anthony just fine. He had succeeded on getting Loki alone, and he refused to dawdle away this opportunity. Setting aside his goblet, he reached for another and filled it with wine; before he crossed the floor to stand in front of his guest.

"Wine, your Grace,"

"Because what is one more drink after so many," Loki smiled coyly. "Perhaps this is a ploy to loosen my tongue."

"Oh yes, because the affairs of the South concern me so greatly. If that had been the case, I would have taken the seven kingdoms for myself. But I only wanted the North, as you can clearly see."

"And the Iron Wolf bares his fangs once more." Loki received his goblet and took a drink from it. "This time not on the battlefield either."

"I don't intend to fight with you, your Grace." Anthony turned away to retrieve his own goblet. "By no means do I intend on provoking the Sea Serpent."

"I am no more of the sea than you are, Stark." Loki returned; any pretense of niceties lost. "In fact, I am far more a Northern than you are."

"More Northern than the King of the North; pray tell, how can that possibly be?"

"I was not born of the sea or even of the South. I was born of the North, far more Northern than even your reach; beyond your North and into the wild." Loki ambled towards the hearth; seemingly entranced by the flames. "In fact, to me you are the Southern one; how unexpected indeed."

Anthony sidled up beside Loki; he knew very little of his Southern counterpart. In fact, he had hardly recognized the sexual tension between them; before he was rutting against him mindlessly. Perhaps he should have paid better heed to the murmurs around him; if only to potentially learn more about Loki.

"But I haven't come only on good tidings, Iron Wolf." Loki smiled mirthlessly. "It's a simple courtesy, really. Because I intend on sailing West on a campaign, and I suppose it's better to hear such news from your fellow king than one of his lowly lords or dare I say distant cousins."

"Why on earth would you sail to the West?"

"That I cannot tell you, and you cannot make me."

"You are an enigma, your Grace." Anthony scowled, before draining his goblet. "And it's probably for the best that I remain ignorant to your campaign. Unless, of course, you are asking for help from me,"

They exchanged an intense gaze, which revealed that that certainly wasn't the case. The royal army was sufficiently large and there wasn't any need for Loki to call for assistance from the Starks unless in dire need; which would only have been in wartime.

"May I ask why have you called me to your personal chambers?"

"Privacy, of course,"

"Has this anything to do with your claim of conquest?" Loki asked. "Or have you unwittingly lost your mind to permit such a dangerous ally into your chambers?"

"Are you threatening me, your Grace? Because that has been the umpteenth time that you've mentioned potential danger that might befall my court."

"As much as you wanted the South, I currently feel the same about the North, Iron Wolf. If I wanted it I would have it, and yet here we are; two kings with two separate kingdoms, forged by a truce that still remains standing. And it shall until my dying breath; may it be on this campaign or the next or the one after that." Loki set his goblet atop of the mantle. "And may my sons and their sons and your sons and their sons remain allies forevermore."

There wasn't any falsehood about those words; Anthony could tell they were spoken with conviction and honesty, far different that Loki's previous barbs. But Anthony hadn't any regrets addressing his concerns; anyone would have been a fool if they hadn't. War was not a game, and if anyone threatened his people; he would not hesitate to raise a question, let alone a sword.

He placed his goblet beside Loki's on the mantle, observing the other man closely. Loki returned his gaze steadily; before he reached for him and took the hem of his tunic into hand. It remained there for several moments, until Loki became inspired to lift the hem ever-so-slightly.

"King of the North, mayhap I'll unsheathe your sword yet." Loki brought his other hand into play; he hooked one finger into the intricate lacing of his trousers and loosened them with very little effort.

"From talks of conquer, potential threats of war, to unsheathing of my sword?" Anthony swallowed as the laces gave way to Loki's deft fingers.

"All in the same, don't you agree? Unsheathing of one's sword goes hand-in-hand with conquest and war."

Anthony reached for the mantle to steady himself; if only to calm his excitement. Especially once his Southern counterpart sank to his knees before him, almost in reverence or maybe even loyalty. But he knew better than to say as much; lest he lose a favorite and important part of himself.

The laces slowly gave way and parted his trousers, to reveal dark curls of hair that were nestled above his already hardening cock. One-handedly, Anthony began to undo the clasps of his coat with enviable dexterity. He hadn't any reason to ask any questions; Loki was being very apparent about his wants, and he was the sort to take it by force (if what he desired didn't come willingly).

"Show me the pride of the Stark name, my King." Loki uttered. "Or may I see to it myself; almost as if I were your squire,"

"Be my squire then," he returned breathlessly as Loki reached into his trousers, and grasped his erection in his cool and long-fingered hand.

Despite wielding a sword so masterfully, Loki had uncharacteristically soft hands. Many kings had lost their talent of swordsmanship, once they'd taken the throne; although, Anthony knew Loki wouldn't be one of them. Especially if his words were true of a campaign elsewhere was true.

No one could possibly tame such a bloody thirsty spirit like Loki's. No one could break an ambitious man of his passions; regardless of the riches and accolades one procured while on the throne. Or at least that was Anthony's personal experience of the matter.

"Ah, yes, I remember." Loki murmured, sliding his hand along Anthony's length. "Quite impressive, my King,"

Words failed Anthony once more; he could only take in a shuddering breath, as Loki freed him from his trousers and continued to stroke him in earnest. It was a lazy pace, delicate even, and ignited spurts of pleasure throughout his body; ones that easily brought him to full hardness, within only a matter of moments.

He closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of Loki's hand; which worked from shaft to head slowly, and lingered at the blunt head of his length every few strokes. It was an amazing talent that caused Anthony to buck his hips forward; in hopes of prolonging the pleasure that he was receiving from the action.

Their previous bedding had been a rushed affair; excitable and messy. They both had been painted with the macabre reminders of war; both dressed in stained armor and chain mail, which had been carelessly ripped away and tossed aside in heaps. Loki had mounted him easily and rode him as if he were on horseback, until he had switched their positions and fucked into Loki and made them both cry out in ecstasy.

War had very little finesse on the bloodstained battlefield; their coupling had very little finesse in that respect too. Not like this anyway; with how Loki stroked him to and fro, and twisted his wrist whenever he found it to be appropriate. And he seemed to already know what Anthony liked; what would cause him to keen and for his knees to shake and buckle.

"The pride of the North," Loki said; no doubt with an evil little smirk on his lips. "I wonder if you taste like iron and snow."

Before Anthony could even reply, he felt Loki's tongue graze the underside of his length; hot and moist across the sensitive skin. He choked out a peculiar noise, as that sinful tongue drew upward and across the head of his erection; that was stimulated by the serpent-like tip of Loki's tongue, and worked its way across the slit that was already pearling with precum.

Anthony reached downward, tangling his fingers into Loki's hair; silently urging him to take him into his mouth. He had always wondered how it would feel to be inside that clever mouth; whose banter was both a gift and a danger. But he suspected the former was far more becoming of the matter at hand; and he couldn't say he was disappointed by the results.

Loki took the swollen head of his member into his mouth; gently sucking on it, while swirling his tongue ever-so-slightly at the same time. The combination was enough to cause Anthony to jut his hips forward insistently; until Loki finally permitted further access into his mouth, which he swallowed up almost greedily.

It was a glorious sensation; one that Anthony had only experienced in brothels in the capital. Experienced whores from every corner of the seven kingdoms had congregated in those brothels, and had been selected to work there based on their skills. Some masters of their tongues; others master of their fingers. But all masters of their feminine wiles.

His kingly counterpart was equally gifted with his mouth. Loki hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, drawing out hurried breaths and strangled noises from Anthony's mouth. His tongue curled and licked across the underside of Anthony's cock once more; determined, or so it seemed, to drive Anthony mad.

"No more," Anthony rasped out. "I yield to you. I yield."

A pleased hum vibrated from Loki's throat, causing him to moan in spite of himself. But Loki pulled away from his erection nonetheless; meeting his eyes unashamedly and almost proudly by the results of his ability to make another king yield. That would have drawn Anthony's ire, if he hadn't felt so pleasant and wanted nothing more than to broach Loki's body in fast and rapid thrusts; similarly to how he had taken him all those years ago.

Loki leaned inward once more; pressing a firm kiss to the head of his member, before he trailed many more down along his shaft. Which only spurred on Anthony's desire to kiss Loki; he wanted those lips on his and to explore his own taste on Loki's tongue. He couldn't recall if he had ever kissed Loki before; due to the circumstances of their first coupling, he probably hadn't.

"The floor is nowhere for the ruler of the seven kingdoms." He gritted out, as Loki's tongue gently prodded the slit of his cock.

His hand held steadfast into Loki's inky black hair; feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the unrelenting attack launched on his person. Regardless of his words, Loki continued to toy with the slit of his cock; moaning obscenely once he dribbled precum onto his taste buds. And that had almost become his undoing; to know someone so regal and honorable was moaning like a common wench by his taste was too much for him to comprehend.

Demandingly, Anthony tugged Loki away by his hair; until that tongue could no longer tease him into submission. He knew that was a possibility too; to fall victim to such a wicked tongue that seemed determined to make him crumble under its ministrations.

"I yielded. Did you not hear me?"

"I am not poor of hearing." Loki chuckled in a way that made his erection ache further. "I just chose not to heed your surrender."

"You are a cruel king."

"Cruel but righteous," Loki slowly stood, taking a hold of either side of Anthony's knee length coat, and pushing it off his shoulders; before it fell to the stone floor with a plop. "But more importantly, I am a fair king; especially when I find something worth my while."

Anthony felt another excruciating ache reverberate through his body. His animal instinct wanted him to pounce; to tear away the beautiful fabrics that were wrapped around Loki's body, and throw him to the ground and rut against him until their muscles burned and their limbs screamed for mercy. Yet he refused to become victim of instinct; not now, when he had so much he wanted to accomplish.

He made quick use of his tunic; yanking it over his head and tossing it away from him, and found some sort of grim satisfaction in the way Loki's eyes traveled across his naked torso. Due in part because of the nasty scarring that took up much of his chest; after an unfortunate tactical error on his part during a small skirmish many years ago.

Loki wouldn't have been privy to the scarring; he oftentimes kept his tunic on while intimate. And he most certainly did not want to flaunt such a blemish of weakness, in the company of a war monger who'd only just beheaded his elder brother.

"Perhaps you've changed your mind, your Grace." He smiled bemusedly. "Wartime hasn't been kind to me; although I procured this gem during my earlier years."

There wasn't an immediate response; his fellow king only stared at the scarring, as if to attempt to understand what had caused it. Which wouldn't be forthcoming without the story, and Anthony wasn't in a mood to recite it either. Despite many men's need to boast about their many glories on the battlefield; he was not one of them.

"Are you ashamed of it?" Loki finally raised his eyes, while placing his hand to the center of the mangled web of scarring.

"Not ashamed, no," he shook his head. "But I'm not proud of it either."

"That would make you a fool then, Anthony Stark. Only thieves, smugglers, and deserters should be ashamed of their scars. But you should not; for this was earned by courage, valiancy. And I mean to worship your body as it was meant to be worshiped by your Lady and her handmaids, and every woman in the North." Loki kissed him then; hard and demanding and painful.

A metallic taste already painted Anthony's tongue from the brief contact. But he wasn't one for complaints when a beautiful and wild creature such as Loki took liberties with him. He kissed him back hungrily, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip; before forcing it between Loki's lips.

They fought for dominance; their tongues rolling and twisting together like serpents. Anthony grasped onto Loki's waist, bringing their bodies together; and creating a friction between Loki's clothed belly and his exposed member. He groaned into the kiss; more so, as Loki tangled both his hands into his wild hair and pulled on it.

His head tilted back by Loki's insistence; which caused the kiss to deepen radically, and for him to become well acquainted with his own taste. He didn't taste of either snow or iron; only musky and human-like, which was made that much sweeter by Loki's saliva and that hint of blood that had been drawn between them.

The contact lasted only several more moments, before they parted to breathe. Anthony gulped in as much air as he could, in order to press open mouth kisses along Loki's jawline; while Loki's hands drifted away from his hair, and focused on the task of removing his trousers, exposing him further to the cool air.

"Share my bed with me tonight." Anthony gasped out as Loki's fingers ghosted across the swell of his now naked bottom.

"An hour or so, but no more,"

"How unfair of you,"

"Nay, practical," Loki directed him backwards across the floor, undoubtedly to the bed in the center of Anthony's chambers. "For what would my men think when they cannot find me? Hysteria might ensue and your men might pay the price."

It was a legitimate argument; one that he hadn't even taken into account. He was inept while blinded with lust, which was very lucky that Loki still remained levelheaded; although he hoped to rectify that very soon once they were sprawled across the many animal pelts on his bed. He wanted to leave an impression, considering that he had not three years earlier.

Within moments, they had come to the foot of the bed; Loki pushed him back onto it with a coy smile that made Anthony want to take himself into hand. But he resisted the urge to; he instead allowed Loki to take one of his booted feet in hand, and begin to untie the many knots that secured it in place.

"How I adore the regality of our garb. But is it too much to ask for easier accessibility, when my cock his hard?" Loki clucked his tongue disapprovingly, while managing to remove his first boot.

"And yet you stand here fully clothed."

"Dearest Anthony, I would rather have you spread out before me; before I address my own state of dress. I have seen myself many times before, and while I am a sight to behold; I would prefer to see you instead."

"Vain as well as powerful," he sucked in a breath, once he was rid of his second boot; and his trousers were unceremoniously ripped down his legs and off his person.

Loki didn't reply; he leaned over him, bracketing his hands on either side of his head, smiling larger than before. There was something oddly unsettling about having a man known for his cruelty on the battlefield above him; as if there was the possibility of being skewered by a hidden weapon at any given moment. Which for some unknown reason, caused his erection to ache and strain far more than it already had been.

Perhaps danger was an aphrodisiac to him; and nothing was more deadly and dangerous than King Loki Odinson, whom had defeated his brother and forced his mother to gaze upon the head of her first born. Since Lady Frigga had sided with her eldest rather than her youngest; but she had remained free of imprisonment and death, by the grace of the gods.

"Do you intend on fucking me, your Grace?" Anthony asked, as Loki nuzzled his cheek.

"Not with my cock, I fear."

"If not with your cock…?"

"My tongue, of course," Loki said matter-of-factly.

For what felt like the umpteenth time since Loki's arrival, Anthony found that words failed him. No one had performed such an act on him beforehand; not even some of the more adventurous whores he had bedded, while jumping from brothel to brothel. It hadn't even occurred to him, and he certainly hadn't believed a fellow king would want to perform such an unspeakable act upon him.

He could only mull over that declaration, as Loki pressed kisses along the column of his throat and the sides of his neck; reverent in his care of him. He moved his head to the side, giving Loki permission to continue his ministrations; that soon evolved into small love bites and suckling of the sensitive parts of his neck that made him squirm in spite of himself.

Eventually Loki moved down his body; tasting the skin of his collarbone and the swell of his biceps that had been forged by wielding a sword since his boyhood. Before he finally halted at the web of pink and white scars that crept outward from the center of his chest like the depiction of the sun on a family's coats of arms; Anthony held his breath by the sudden attention, only to release it soon thereafter.

Loki kissed the very center of the scarring, while his hands deemed it appropriate to toy with him as well. Those long-fingered anomalies traced the thinner almost invisible scars that spread outward, and moved along his skin until they moved towards his nipples. Loki rolled one of his nipples between his thumb and index finger; drawing it to attention, before he repeated the action on his other nipple.

Anthony couldn't suppress the pleased sound that erupted from his mouth; particularly when Loki began to lick the center of his scar in the most sensual way anyone had ever touched him. Or perhaps it was because of the fact that he hadn't allowed anyone to touch him so intimately before. He had hidden his scarring well; even the Lady Virginia hadn't spied upon it before.

"Your Grace, you are overdressed." He reached up to run his hands through Loki's ebony waves of hair. "It would be a shame if I soiled your finely tailored garbs by accident."

"Perhaps you are right." Loki said against his chest, before he gradually pushed himself to his feet beside the bed. "I would loathe for you to mar my best winter clothing."

"It would be a shame indeed," he took in sharp breath; entranced by the way in which Loki began to undo the silver clasps of his coat.

Each clasp slowly came undone, to reveal an unimpressive black tunic underneath. Loki quickly unbuckled the belt around his waist and discarded it to the floor; in order to shoulder off his coat. He made quick use of his tunic soon thereafter; pulling it over his head, to reveal lily-white skin underneath. That looked untouched by first glance; except ghost-like scars speckled every inch of Loki's torso, a testament to his many victories at war.

Anthony was enchanted by Loki; he watched as he seamlessly worked off his boots, and then finally unlaced his trousers and worked them off his body. And it was a sight to behold; the Southerners' king was wiry and lean with strong thighs and defined abdominal muscles. His cock was swollen already and red, and begging to be touched by him.

"I prefer you like this, I think." He murmured, as Loki sleekly climbed back onto the bed; but regrettably he didn't choose to drape himself over his body a second time.

"And I prefer you," Loki suddenly reached out and masterfully flipped him onto his belly. "Like this, my King. On your belly with such a lovely arse on display for me,"

Those long fingers moved across the width of his shoulders; mayhap tracing many more of his scars. He had been shot too many times to count by wayward arrows. One of his cousins had shot him by accident, while attempting to learn archery; but thankfully it hadn't been a serious injury.

"I intend on bringing you an immeasurable amount of pleasure. So great that every encounter will pale in comparison for you; and it'll leave you wanting only for me," Loki straddled him then, while running his hands across his flanks.

Before long, Loki's tongue traced along the nape of his neck; unhurriedly gliding across his vertebra one by one. Anthony moaned, unable to stop his base need to seek further pleasure by himself. He rolled his hips into the many mismatched animal pelts underneath his body; reveling in the sensation.

Loki didn't stop him either; he simply continued downward until he had to readjust himself to fulfill what he had in mind for Anthony. And it appeared as if Loki's words were true; he intended on taking him with his tongue. Loki urged him further up the bed by use of his hips; while simultaneously lifting his lower body into the air, more so than it already had been.

Now positioned onto his knees, Anthony peered over his shoulder at Loki; who had trailed his hands from his hips towards the swell of his ass, and down the curve of his thighs. He repeated the caress several times; only to grow bolder by touching the heavy sac between his legs that had gone unnoticed all this time.

Loki slid his fingers along the seam of his sac; then without any warning the tip of his tongue followed suit, and drew a surprised exclamation out of his mouth. It felt sinfully good, as Loki's tongue lapped lazily along his sac; before taking his balls into his mouth, and sucked on them.

"Long live the King." He half-chuckled and half-moaned, as the sucking became far more insistent with every passing moment.

Anthony felt his cock twitch and bob, and dribble onto the animal pelts; although his pleasure only heightened as Loki began to spread him open with his hands. He parted his cheeks and exposed him in a manner he hadn't been exposed before. And that's when that devilish mouth forfeited his balls and moved upward.

Sloppy wet kisses were pressed against his ass; even a nip or two as well was bestowed upon him. All of which were deviant manners of pleasure, but ones that Anthony sorely enjoyed. Especially the feeling of Loki's tongue gliding across the crease of his body, so he could attack his virginal entrance; and it felt foreign and indescribable, but also pleasurable and worrisome.

He cried out as that wet tongue circled his entrance; delicately stimulating him without being overly obtrusive. It traced around his entrance over and over again; sometimes becoming a tad bit bolder by licking across it completely, and even prodding away at his hole before returning to the beginning. And the combination was making him a babbling fool; no more a king than the lowly drunkards on every pub's floor within the realm.

His body quivered from head to toe; consumed by pleasure so great, he thought he might lose himself in it forever. Loki's tongue continued its teasing; licking him fully and covering him in spittle. Which was vile enough to cause his hips to work of their own accord; seeking further pleasure in whatever form it may come in. And it came with another demanding press against his entrance; that gave way only a tad.

But another press from that unrelenting tongue; finally permitted Loki access into his body. Anthony moaned louder than he had before; unable to describe the sensation of being opened up by Loki's tongue, but enjoying it too much to deny it. His toes curled as Loki fucked him with the tip of his tongue; in and out, in and out, in and out.

"I yield to you again!" He rolled his hips, on the verge of complete satiation. "Ah, I won't be able to pleasure you if you don't, ah by the gods, stop!"

At that declaration, Loki forced his tongue deeper into him; which almost was his undoing. His yell echoed off the walls; strangled and clearly pleased. So pleased in fact, his mind temporarily drew a blank, and could only focus on the wriggling of Loki's tongue inside of him, and how his erection twitched minutely because of it.

After several more invasive thrusts, and Anthony trying to fuck back into it; Loki unfortunately withdrew from him. His breath was hot and moist against Anthony's most intimate of parts, and he wanted nothing more than to withdrawal his previous words. If it meant Loki would return his tongue into his body once more.

"You have yielded several times to me already." Loki huffed out, squeezing his ass with both his hands. "I wonder if you could possibly make me yield in turn. Or will my previous statement stand, about no Northern man laying claim to me."

"How can I possibly try now?" Anthony panted into the pelts, pressed to his face. "I need recovery time."

"I've forgotten you've seen far more seasons than I have."

"What do you take me for, a man of fifty?"

"You are easily offended, King of the North." Loki turned him over onto his back; looking lustful and wild, as he had when he'd cornered Anthony in his tent.

Anthony closed his eyes, so he could collect himself. The sight of Loki was hardly doing him any favors; he was far too stunning to be taken lightly. And his body ached for anything that would bring him to the end of this world and back.

"I hope I haven't overtaxed you by my devious behavior." Loki continued, running both his hands to the center of his chest; almost a possessive action, if Anthony thought about it. "I would very much like you to sheath yourself inside of me; to draw animal noises out of me. I'd like nothing more and I presume you would too; since you do have oil at your bedside."

"Contrary to popular belief, I am not as clever as I appear. I'm very transparent when it comes to you, your Grace."

"Then recover yourself and prove your worth."

"I've proven my worth as your trusted ally; when so many of your sort was vying for the throne." Anthony cracked open an eye, laboriously coming to a seated position. "Or have you forgotten that too?"

"Your family name has proven its worth." Loki leaned over him then; so he could dip his fingers into the bowl of oil he had one of his servants fetch while he was still at the feast. "Your individual worth, well that is certainly still something you have to prove to me."

Once his fingers were sopping wet, Loki settled comfortably onto the bed. He lied on his back and hooked one of his arms underneath his leg; exposing himself in a manner that left Anthony's mouth dry. Those oil drenched fingers slowly slid downwards, brushing at the crease of his ass; before he pressed his index finger into himself.

An erotic noise escaped Loki, as he pressed his finger further inside of him and wriggled it about. After several moments, he removed it halfway out then plunged it back in; garnering another noise that was better than the last. But any such sounds from such a powerful man as Loki Odinson was delightfully hypnotizing (if entirely not witchcraft).

Anthony could only watch; despite his need to calm his arousal. He should have glanced elsewhere, instead of paid rapt attention to Loki inserting another finger into his body; while practically arching off the bed in delirium.

Loki was rough with himself; any pretense of gentleness was already discarded within the first moments of his performance. He fucked both his fingers into himself relentlessly; rolling his hips in way that would enhance the sensation and it seemed to be successful. For another, louder sound erupted from Loki's mouth; which sent a tremor of want directly through Anthony's own body.

"No more of this; I've had enough." Anthony climbed back onto his knees. "I'll prove my worth to you now, and show you that the King of the North was rightfully chosen."

"I have no use of you now." Loki keened, pressing another finger into his body. "Why I ever thought otherwise is beyond rhyme or reason."

Something feral overcame Anthony then. He suspected the dismissive nature in which those words were spoken were to blame; alongside the fact that he sorely wished to be in the position in which Loki's fingers were. Which inevitably compelled him to latch onto Loki's wrist that had been forcefully twisting and turning between his legs; and stopped him from continuing to pleasure himself.

"No more, I said." He tugged on Loki's wrist, until each slick finger reemerged from his body. "Now on your knees in front of me,"

"King of the North indeed," Loki groaned in ill-temperament; as if he committed a great offense against him by halting his self-pleasure.

Rather than put up an unreasonable fight about his annoyance, Loki surprisingly did as he was told. He rolled onto his belly, before he raised himself onto his hands and knees, and eventually maneuvered back onto his knees. Anthony smiled at his compliancy and grasped onto both his shoulders; kneading at them in a sign of good will.

"I've imagined having you again; thought of many ways in which I would like you. Plenty involved your ass in the air and calling my name as if I were your god. I imagined you riding me as well again; furious and hungry, as if you were riding into battle. And yet, I always found this to be the most erotic."

"And what would that be?" Loki asked breathlessly, as he bucked his hips in arousal.

"You seem to believe you have been seated on your rightful throne. But I'm afraid you haven't yet." He pressed his body fully against Loki's from behind; sliding his hands down to stroke his strong thighs. "I think you should claim what is rightfully yours, before someone else does."

"Oh, I like you." Loki pushed back into him; where his erection situated itself against his perfect ass. "I'll take what's mine now."

Those were the words Anthony had waited such a long time to hear. Three years of pining away for his Southern counterpart had finally paid their due. He had known the gods of old and new was on his side tonight; and that knowledge inspired him to haphazardly reach for the oil and slather his whole hand in it, without drawing too far away from Loki.

He took himself in hand; coating his arousal thoroughly until it glistened in the candlelight. Once he was done, he sidled impossibly close to Loki; who improvised in order to make the coupling easier. Loki leaned forward, planting one of his hands against the bed; permitting Anthony to press his erection between his cheeks, and against his fluttering hole.

The blunt head of his cock strained against Loki, until Anthony gave a small buck of his hips; and felt the muscles let way underneath his insistence. He sunk inch by inch into the warmth of Loki's body by the help of his sporadic hip movements; and found himself fully sheathed inside him within moments of initial penetration.

Anthony wrapped his arm around Loki's torso, urging him to straighten himself somewhat; which resulted in Loki sinking further into his lap. Loki groaned in the back of his throat, before blindly reaching backwards with one hand to grab onto Anthony's ass to keep him in place.

"Seated on your rightful throne, after all," Anthony chuckled huskily; before he began to pull out of him, and thrust in with unnecessary force.

Loki clenched around him, almost making it impossible to pull out of him once more. But he persevered somehow, withdrawing halfway and thrusting back inside of him quickly. It was a glorious feeling; one he had craved for such a long time; one he dreamt of while bedding many whores and his Lady alike.

The pace in which he established was harsh; he thrusted in and out of Loki as if his whole life depended on it. As if his performance would undoubtedly result in either punishment or reward; that he mayhap be removed from the throne, and the North would no longer be independent from the South. Which, of course, was silly to even consider; but it didn't cease his hurried movements at all.

His free hand gripped onto Loki's thigh, while he fucked him without pause. His hips snapped back and forth; even as Loki continued to clench around him in an attempt to draw him closer to his release. And he was already teetering so very close to the edge; with all the vile and unmentionable things Loki had done to him already.

"You are beautiful." He murmured against the shell of Loki's ear; punctuating his words with sharp but short bucks of his hips. "Look to your side towards the looking glass, and see the mighty conqueror and King Loki being fucked by the King of the North."

Loki made a strangled noise, but turned his head to glimpse at the looking glass. Anthony had hoped he could see himself embedded in Loki, and fucking into him with reckless abandon. And it so happened that the view was extraordinarily good; they were fully displayed.

They contrasted one another; despite Anthony being of the North and Loki of the South, they were colored differently. Anthony was far more tanned than Loki who was pale as snow. But the way their bodies curved and joined was both fascinating and dare he say beautiful?

"Two kings, fucking like common peasants." Anthony moaned without any shame; continuing to roll his hips and fucking into Loki without fail. "Fucking as if we are no better,"

"Curse your tongue," Loki cried out, pressing back into him; coming very close to simply seating himself into his lap. But never once did his eyes deviate from their reflection.

"Curse my tongue and my house and my desire for you."

"Yes, all that and more!" Loki reached backwards, hooking his arm around his neck; while his other hand tried to remain in place on his ass, even though the perspiration seemed to be against it.

Anthony craned his neck, in order to kiss Loki's delightfully foul mouth; and was pleased by how his lips fell open, and his tongue tangled with his. He continued to thrust in sharp and rough movements; before he felt the heady rumble of arousal in his belly. He knew he would eventually fall into suffocating pleasure, and yet he held steadfast.

His hand roamed away from Loki's thigh; tickling upwards until his fingers wrapped around Loki's hardened and twitching cock. He pumped him in time with his thrusts; while also remaining firmly against those compliant lips. Ones that he had only dreamt of capturing and silencing those witty and oftentimes cruel barbs that came out of them.

Loki cried into his mouth, as he thumbed the head of his member; which was wet with precum that continued to leak copiously. He continued to massage over it, as his pace began to turn erratic and desperate. Loki clenched around him again, but both their sounds of pleasure was silenced by the one another's tongues.

The sensation grew rapidly; the well beloved stimulation that would satiate their base needs. Anthony lived for those movements before release; when he rutted one-mindedly against his partner and sought the simplest of truths. Where title or status was no more important than the shrubbery that grew in the North as opposed to the South; at that moment he and Loki were simply human.

They were not kings of valor; ones that committed heinous acts for revenge or simply for power. They were only men then; hungry for one another, and lost in the pleasures of one another's bodies that threatened to devour them whole. And Anthony wanted nothing less than that; to plunge head-first into the beauty that was Loki.

"Stare into that looking glass as you reach your peak." Anthony rasped against Loki's wet mouth; before he turned to witness their coupling once more.

Loki's cock was a brilliant color red, shining with his own fluid; and grasped by Anthony's calloused and gruff hand that also glistened from his precum. The animal pelts had suffered a similar fate; caused by the erratic movements of their bodies, seeking blindly for completion. Which might very well be around the bend; as they watched themselves rut against one another without fail; so consumed by pleasure that all else was insignificant in comparison.

"Ah," Loki groaned loudly, as his whole body trembled.

"Yield to me, Loki."

"Not yet,"

"Yield to me now!" Anthony demanded, punctuating every word with a harder thrust than the last; and that seemed to cause him to find the sweet spot within his fellow king. For he was suddenly wrapped in unbearably pleasurable tightness and heat that was unrelenting and ever-so-demanding; and he felt, more than heard the rumble of something from Loki's throat.

"Yield, I yield!" Loki yelled then, hitting his climax with such intensity that it left Anthony seeing stars in its wake.

Thick ropes of come spurted from the head of Loki's cock; and coated his belly as well as Anthony's hand. The sight was one to behold; one too great for Anthony to last beyond a thrust more, before he too was spilling his seed inside of Loki's beautiful and willing body.

He made a strangled, inhuman noise; silencing it by biting down onto Loki's shoulder that tasted salty but satisfactory to his taste buds. He continued to roll his hips, riding out his release, and felt Loki match his lazy pace in that regard. Considering the fact that they were both greedy and were unsatisfied with what they had, it was only natural; even though, their coupling had been deeply satisfactory.

"Mm," Loki hummed, following the rhythm of Anthony's hips. "You've proven yourself, indeed."

"I am King of the North for a reason, your Grace." Anthony nosed the spot where he bit Loki; feeling drowsy and pleasant. "And now you have nothing to fear."

Loki hummed again lazily, as they continued to move as one; even as the pleasurable sensations began to fade away. It felt like a desperate act to remain attached to one another without the need for feelings; albeit Anthony found he wouldn't have any issue with a minstrel singing of his love for his Southern King.

"I should return to my chambers now; lest anyone find I'm not in them."

"Very wise indeed, your Grace,"

"I am very wise and just." Loki muttered, as he separated the two of them with care.

Once Anthony had withdrawn from Loki's body; he fell unceremoniously onto his belly against the bed. He felt satiated and sleepy; so sleepy in fact; he found no interest whatsoever in watching Loki crawl away from him and redress himself.

He listened to his fellow king sort through the tangle of clothing on the floor; and dress himself with a speed that would have impressed him, had he the mind to pay it any real heed. But he could only force himself to roll onto his back after several moments; so he could gaze at Loki in his rich regalia once more.

"Shall you return to me?"

"I make no promises of the sort. I am King of the seven kingdoms, and I don't intend on being a dormant one either."

"This campaign to the West is, in fact, dangerous then?" Anthony blinked away his sleepiness; suddenly struck by a bolt of worry.

"If you must know – very much so; but the riches that will follow will be worth the danger."

"Riches; doesn't the realm have enough of them?"

"There are other riches beyond land, gold, and silver." Loki smirked, as he stepped towards his chambers' doors. "Magical things, if you will."

"Magical things; pray tell what would cause a sound king like yourself to risk a campaign overseas?"

"Dragons, of course," Loki pulled open one of the heavy doors; only to cease to do so when Anthony belted out an inappropriate laugh.

Everyone knew from babe to elder that dragons hadn't been seen in hundreds of years. They were simply stories of old to tell the children around the campfire. No one could possibly believe that a dragon was still in existence now; which made the whole conversation that much sillier.

"Dragons haven't been seen in hundreds of years." Anthony laughed again; as he lounged comfortably back against his bed. "They're as probable as magic is; both tales of old, but neither existing in the here and now. Although magic hasn't been proven; whereas dragons have, simply by their skulls alone,"

"There is more to the world than your ice and snow," Loki uttered seriously, before he snapped his fingers and silenced any further laughter Anthony might have had.

In the center of Loki's hand stood a luscious emerald green flame; one that danced to and fro, and did not burn his flesh. Anthony sat up straight in his bed; gaping at the unnatural light that was suddenly extinguished by Loki, who had closed his hand into a tight fist.

"Good night, rightful King of the North. May you have only pleasant dreams of dragons and magic and your just and true King on his knees." And without further ado, Loki smiled wistfully at him; before slipping away into the dreary innards of Castle Stark as if he were a dream.


End file.
